


At Our Father's Pleasure

by LogopoliManc



Category: Waterloo Road (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Non-Canon Relationship, Retrospective, Weird, Weird Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-04
Updated: 2014-05-04
Packaged: 2018-01-21 21:19:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1564466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LogopoliManc/pseuds/LogopoliManc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack meets Rachel in a strange place. They look back on the school and their differing opinions on how best to run it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	At Our Father's Pleasure

**Author's Note:**

> This is an old, old fic, reposted from the Waterloo Road Forums because it's so hard to find WR fic anywhere (especially from back in the good old days :P).

It was an empty room with white walls, and a white floor, and a white ceiling too. If any of the occupants had taken the time to look properly, they would have noticed that the room’s features were far from defined – there were no edges; one wall seemed to merge to the next, and their surroundings appeared fuzzy at the edges. Reality itself was blurred. As it was, they never felt the urge to look.

“Oi!” He slammed his palms repeatedly against a curiously solid door. No response. A kick as he yelled, “What the hell is this?!” Silence. He took a deep breath and moved around the room, looking for something to hit the door with. “Don’t worry, love, I’ll sort this.”

She rolled her eyes with incredulity, taken aback by his dismissal. A raised eyebrow as he lifted up a fire extinguisher, “Do you honestly think that’s going to work?”

They made eye contact for the first time as he paused, taking her in. Well, this was the last thing he needed; his tone turned sullen and awkward. “Worth a try, eh?”

The woman sighed, seeing the naïve arrogance of one of her students in those features she’d never seen but knew so well. “Jack…” The fire extinguisher fell to the floor, forgotten and invisible. He stood before her, dared her to speak with his eyes; yet another teenage tactic that had no effect on the woman. She merely glared back until he broke.

“What the hell is he playing at?” Spitting anger.

“I don’t know.” An exaggerated shrug, then hands on her hips. “Looks like we were meant to meet.”

His reaction was akin to an adolescent’s moody tantrum; a facial expression of forced hatred. “Oh, well I suppose you’re alright with all this then. If it was ‘meant to be’.”

Finally Rachel smiled; she felt oddly light now she had nothing to worry or care for, and his irritability was delightful. “I wonder if you can sulk for all of eternity, Mr Rimmer.” She gave a smirk for his outrage.

“Oh, well excuse my ignorance, Rachel; they didn’t mention there’d be a comedian!”

She folded her arms. “Fine.” He frowned, wondering what on earth she expected him to do as she turned and walked away. It was when he noticed that her outline was fading that he was shocked into action.

“Wait!” A sigh. “Come on, Rachel, come back…” She was still. “Rachel, please!” After a few moments she turned, and was stood before him within seconds.

“Drop the attitude, Jack, you’re worse than the kids.” His face was blank naivety; she smiled as he made a point of avoiding her eyes. “This is just me and you.”

“What, just this, forever?”

She shrugged. “Forever, or just for this moment, I suppose. Who are we to question?” He shook his head before meeting her gaze, and she spotted his thinly veiled fear - whilst Rachel preferred this world, empty of judgement, he felt naked with nothing to hide behind. “Tell me about you, Jack. I know I had big boots to fill.”

He sat down in his office chair, lifting a pint glass from the bar table in front of him. Rachel followed, her seat identical, and they drank in silence for a while before Jack decided to speak. “I don’t know how you coped with that place. Don’t know how I did, to be honest. The bloke before me ended up screaming on the roof…”

“You sound like all those people we fought, Jack. They’re not bad kids.”

He shook his head. “No, course they’re not. Most of ‘em, anyway.” He sighed. She understood.

“It took it out of me too. So many times I handed in my resignation… I think mostly I was just tired.” She took another sip from her wine, thoughtful.

“You don’t look like the type. No offence, like.”

“I don’t need to be some kind of hard man to teach kids, even if they are from the Waterloo Road estate.” She smiled, serene in the calm. Jack smiled too. “Anyway, I can be tough.”

He laughed. “Yeah?” A light-hearted shrug. “I reckon you’ve shown me that already.”

“Oh no, Mr Rimmer. You’ve seen nothing yet.” She smirked, and he raised an eyebrow. The alcohol might have not affected them, but in this none-world they had no inhibitions to lose. He leaned forwards over the table, his elbow resting on a damp bar mat.

“I’m confused, Miss Mason,” a lazy drawl despite him being sober, “Maybe you’ll have to show me what you mean.”

Rachel laughed at the man’s audacity. Anywhere else he’d have no chance; perhaps that was why they’d missed each other’s lives so narrowly, so that they could come together here. It felt poetic, somehow. He had held the school together, dragged it back from the brink, and then she had helped it grow into everything it would become; he was the revolutionary, and she was the rebuilder. Jack didn’t fill her with the same safety, the secure happiness that her lovers had – yet it just seemed to fit. He made a worthy opponent as well as a handsome companion.

Jack was filled with a similar, ethereal thoughtfulness, despite his outward arrogance. He felt the same sense of destiny, though his thoughts weren’t quite as well-formed as Rachel’s. It seemed that it couldn’t have happened for real – they would have pushed each other too far – so it was happening here instead. Maybe there was a God, after all. It didn’t seem to matter anymore; nothing seemed to exist outside of memories.

The man softened his bold exterior, and Rachel turned away under the glare of his honesty. He stood up and moved through the table, if it existed at all, then reached down to take her hands with uncharacteristic tenderness. She looked up, then stood up too, and held her body close to his whilst she gazed up at him, her fingers resting gently in his hands. It began with their eyes, moving through their hands to the rest of their bodies in a slow, steady instant. Lips to lips, skin to skin, and all souls to heaven.


End file.
